Blades of Gold
by NushiKasai
Summary: Caroline Forbes is an assassin sent to kill an important lord of a distant city- a city that is not all it seems to be. It might be the fact that there are no blonde woman in the city. Or it might have something to do with the abundance of thieves and murderers. Or it might be that the lord of the city, Niklaus, is the strongest demon to have ever risen from the shadows. Klaroline


**Hello all :) I can safely say that this is my last Klaroline fanfiction story that I will publish before I finish one- three on the go is my limit for TVD, haha.**

**Right, this chapter is set from Caroline's P.O.V and the story is set in a fantasy world. Think...Skyrim...ish. It's a bit different, but you'll see that later. For now, Skyrim is a good starting point to imagine: Medieval fashioned-fantasy world. :) **

**Please enjoy and give me your opinions at the end :)**

* * *

_Caroline_

The blade sliced through the pale neck, and the head attached fell the ground with a thud. The woman who held the dagger now sheathed her glimmering weapon, and promptly whirled around to face the end of the grimy, dust-filled room.

It was imperative that she was well into the woodland and cover of the trees before the sun rose. Being spotted by a weary traveller was not preferable in her line of work.

Quietly exiting the small, mountain home, the women flinched as she saw the torches of fire and outlines of farmers making their way up onto the hill-land. She cursed their incessant need to interfere, though she understood their plight. They would be very disappointed, however, to realise that they had been beaten to the punch-line.

The woman sidestepped past the jaggedly cut blocks of firewood, and went over her options. She could take the mountain path; it's treacherous ledges and (supposedly) unclimbable rocks would almost guarantee that she would not run into a possible witness of her escape. However, the slightest slip could grant her a hazardous injury- which was extremely inconvenient when the woman considered the long journey that it was to home.

Her second option was the smoother, more open grasslands that lead to the nearby town. It was an easier path, but the chance of a witness was greatly increased, and if any other leads took her back to this area, a reputation was not preferable. Despite this, the woman weighed up her skill of passing undetected and knew that, if she were to stick to the cover of the obtrusive rocks and scattered trees, than she could pass by the town unnoticed.

The slightest hint of a violent blonde strand of hair slipped from underneath the woman's black cowl, and she scowled to herself before stuffing it none-too-gently back inside the cover of her hood. Her hair was far too recognisable and would warrant a lot of attention in this area, so it was kept strictly hidden.

She began to shuffle stealthily down the hillside; alerted into swift action as the shouts of the town mob grew closer. It would not be long now- they would find the body and then there would be confusion, possibly chaos and even anger at being robbed of their revenge. It was incredibly vital that she was not spotted fleeing from the scene.

Her boots scrapped slightly against the ground and the small tufts of grass whipped against the leather material of her armour as she made her way steadily down the hill. The tree that marked the edge of the road now hid her from the view of the house above, and she made sure to stay out of sight as she crossed the path.

No doubt the mob of townsfolk would be discovering the mutilated body of their enemy, and the confusion would set in. This would be shortly followed by the anger of having their vengeance robbed from them, and they would prepare to return to their homes with a bitter taste in their mouths. It would take a little bit longer for the far to begin; the fear at whatever had killed their powerful enemy. Then the mob would have a new-hopefully unknown- target.

The woman knew this because she had experienced it before. Many, many times. Such was the consequence of her line of work.

Now hidden by the trees surrounding the farms on the outskirts of the small town, the woman was able to break into a jog. Trained for situations that would require physical exertion, she was careful not to waste too much energy on speed, as she may need to hide at a moment's notice.

The trees gave way to the stick fences of the waking farms, and the first rays of the morning sun were beginning to shed light across the previously dark landscape. This caused a flutter of panic within the woman's chest, but she quickly squashed it. Fear was not a usual tool in moments such as these.

She just needed to get further into the farmlands, and then she would have her cover. Quickly standing tall and scouting her surroundings, the woman ducked low beneath the fence and set her carrying knapsack onto the ground before her. She pulled out her 'borrowed' set of miller's clothing, and hastily set about changing into them.

Immediately, she scowled at the itchy feeling of the coarse, poorly-made material scratching against her skin and the lack of flexibility it granted her- opposed to her own armour, which was light, sturdy and allowed easy movement. She kept her own boots on, as her miller dress fell and easily covered her otherwise conspicuous footwear. Finally, to prevent too much attention, she pulled out the farm-girl's white cap and tucked all of her pale blonde hair inside it without making it seem to be a deliberate move.

Standing, she made sure that her knapsack didn't appear to be too large for a simple farm girl before she set off at a brisk walk along the nearby path to the town. Soon enough, she was in the main farmlands, and any people she saw at work paid her little heed bedside the natural wave and tired smile.

Occasionally, when she glanced behind her, she spotted flickering torches of a mob making their way down the hillside, and she instinctively sped up momentarily before remembering that she was in disguise and had little to fear.

The town finally came into view, and the farmlands fell away behind her. She was able to see women waiting outside their small houses, and the elderly men who waited on their wooden porches for their rash sons to return to a scolding- or to not return at all. The moment she passed underneath the lookout walkway that marked the boundary of the town, eyes fell upon her- eager for news.

"What's the tell from the hill?" A guard questioned her immediately as she entered, and the woman scowled as the attention of the townsfolk shifted simultaneously onto her.

She had scouted out the word in the area for a few days, and so equipped her voice with the lilting accent of the villagers as she replied.

"I saw 'em go marchin' in the mornin," she replied, dropping off her consonants where necessary. The guards looked at her hopefully, as though they were expecting more, but the woman dropped her eyes to the floor and mumbled, "They 'aven't come back, yet."

A silent sigh ran through the crowd, and the guard quickly shooed her into the town as the folk returned to their business. The woman watched as people who weren't involved in the mob exited their houses and were greeted with the gloom of the early risers.

The woman made her way through the wooden houses and finally found the straw-thatched ceiling she was looking for: the inn. Her station of rumours and idle talk. She would spend a night or two there as her latest work would die down and the town would return to normal. If there was a remaining sense of unease, or if she had been witnessed leaving the crime scene, then there would be a rumour of it floating around in the inn, and she would be given enough time to flee.

The inn, The Grey Port, was near empty as she entered. Two foreign men sat next to the cooling fire, a working woman swept the floors beside a cheaper rent-room and the man of the inn rubbed his eyes tiredly as he cleaned a used tankard. She approached the innkeeper and peered around her curiously- as a miller girl of the farms would- and she plastered a smile onto her face as he acknowledged her.

"Morning, miss," he greeted her with a rough voice, "What can I do for ya?"

"Hello, there," the woman replied brightly as she fiddled with the side pocket of her knapsack- which was where she kept all of her gold. "Could I please rent a room?"

The man raised his eyebrows, as it was not often he received such a young, happy and undoubtedly pretty woman in his inn, but he asked no questions. That wasn't his job. Besides, she was just a farm girl.

They exchanged the details and payment before a key was handed to the woman under the false name of Miss Kadlin of Graceland. Of course, only she knew that it was a false name.

She deposited her knapsack underneath her bed, and set a quick lock onto the door so that no prying eyes would discover something they shouldn't have. She also double-checked to make sure the dagger set securely at her thighs was in a ready position in case trouble arose.

Back in the main hall, the woman wandered over to the table and picked out her breakfast, before seating herself beside the men. At a closer look, they appeared to be stablemen- possibly from the nearby, much larger village- and they had drunk a little too much to hold their life secrets to their chests.

The man closest to her was named Sigrid and his face was creased and wrinkled after seeing too many years. The other man was named Trevor, and he was much younger- an apprentice, it turned out. She giggled and playfully slapped their wandering hands away as she made sure to get on friendly terms with them. Later that night, she would return and question them again after the mob men had debriefed the town of their finding on the hill.

She exited the inn and headed to another straw thatched ceiling building; which the woman remembered to be the trader's house. As she entered, the trader- who was a dark-skinned, foreign man from the Garront tribes- welcomed her with a steady smile. Her knapsack was soon on the table, and all of her items- stolen from her previous contract's home- were being laid out and evaluated.

"Sometimes, I think to ask why a pretty little girl would have all of this," the trader spoke softly, but his accent was thick and shortened his vowels, "but then I might get an answer I don't want."

The girl hid her smile well and instead peered curiously up at him; for his skin was dotted with glittering pierced beads, and his hair was braided into tight locks against his scalp. He was a rarity in these parts, but he had enough sense in behaviour to get along in a foreign society. Besides, his business was rather popular.

"Hm," the man examined a small ruby ring from the pile, and after deeming that it was real, set it tenderly back down on the bench surface, "Five hundred valuns for the lot."

The woman considered the price, and settled with it- knowing that a simple miller girl wouldn't care to haggle. Besides, it was more than enough money to sustain her for her journey home.

"Have a nice day!" The woman added with a childish trill to her voice as she wandered out of the shop and stifled a chuckle at her own behaviour. Oh, if only her father could see her now.

The rest of the morning consisted with her making idle small talk with the villagers as they waited for their men to return. It wasn't until about the noon that the first signs of burnt out torches were visible on the hill as the villagers finished their trek of no reward.

The woman watched from on the porch of the inn and emotionlessly saw the wives and children rush out of their simple homes and farms and embrace the men who wore expressions of anger, bitterness and disappointment. They filed out and retreated back into the lives they sustained in the small, insignificant village.

Some of the men instead entered the inn, and as they stumbled up to the door, they threw the woman curious glances which she returned with a warm smile. Eventually, the road became eerily clear and the morning sun's rays waned to the softer, yellower beams of the afternoon.

Only the woman remained seated on the porch long after the street was deserted. Inside the inn, she could hear the rowdy shouts as the men gradually succumbing to the influence of too much drink. She heard their yells of disappointment; and their calls for further violence and hunt for the one who snatched their vengeance from their grasps.

Eventually, the woman stood, and hastily cleared her throat. Running into the small village was a courier; a small man who seemed to have run a long journey and was not used to the challenges of his profession.

Expecting the message, she stepped forward and down onto the dirt earth of the street, and waited for the man to catch up to her. He panted as he stopped before her and leant down to breathe heavily and regain his composure. Patiently waiting, the woman plastered her 'village girl' smile on her face and when the courier finally looked up and examined her, he saw only a simple woman expecting a simple message.

"Ah, note from Greenwood, ma'am," he told her, a small embarrassed blush settling on his cheeks. With a polite smile, she reached out and took the crinkled, folded but still intact note.

"Thank you," she replied smoothly, depositing the note in the pocket as though she intended to read it later. "I have no reply."

"Right you are," the courier respectfully accepted her answer and then he began to walk up the stairs into the inn and then was out of sight. It was generally tradition for couriers to stay and rest for a night before taking the long arduous journey back to their hometown or location of business.

As soon as he was gone, the woman pulled out the note from her dress pocket and unfolded it. The ink writing had sunk into the paper; indicating that it was perhaps too watery, but the letter was legible enough. Besides, the woman knew what the message would contain.

Despite the damage sustained to the writing, the words were visible.

_The price of blood has been paid. The souls in unrest now sigh in content. _

_Meet your brother at The Fabled Tale at Harrow's Peak. _

_The Elder_

The woman smiled slightly to herself; pleased that her journey would not be a long one, and shoved the letter unceremoniously back into her dress pocket. She reached up and fluffed her hair in a show of vanity- which was not a commonly displayed attribute due to her line of work.

Whirling around, she stepped up into the inn and immediately walked into a hub of drunken men and cheers. The returned village-folk were spinning tales of how they saw their enemy bleeding to death, and heard his last words.

"He looked at me, he did," an old man who the woman had seen to be a blacksmith working at the forge on other days, stood high on a table and overlooked a wonder-struck crowd of both children and adults with a tankard of ale in his hand. "And he gargled from 'is bleeding mouth, "Don't let me die," he said. And I turned to him and I said, "You killed so many, and you think that you don't need to die?"" This got the man some cheers and whooping sounds of agreement. "And then I left 'im on the ground to pass in his own blood and filth."

The woman resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew that the man's tale was a lie, of course, as she had made her kill quick and easy to avoid detection; her victim died without the chance to utter a word.

But this tended to be the way.

She pushed her way through the crowds and whacked wandering hands away from her, until she arrived at a table at the very back of the room. Seated there was one of the only sober men to be found. He wore a solemn expression and his dark eyes flickered up to the woman as she approached him. The dark, mahogany coloured hair ruffled as he leant back slightly to look at her closely, before his cool mask melted into a warm smile.

"Caroline," the man greeted her as the woman took the seat opposite him. She flinched at hearing her own name after such a long time, but quickly recovered.

"No," the blonde woman, Caroline, replied with a flashing grin, "It's actually Kadlin this time. Best not to let my real name go floating around this land. You should understand that, Stefan."

The man chuckled at her reply, and nodded when she mentioned his name, as Caroline felt confident in betting that he was currently staying in the inn under a false name like she was.

"What troubled lives we lead," Stefan smiled faintly and sobered up as he swirled the liquid in his own small, still-full tankard. "And yet, they're so different."

Caroline giggled to herself, understanding fully well what her friend was saying.

"Yeah; you're a paid sell-sword and I'm an assassin," she quietly whispered at him, so that no wandering ears would hear.

"We make strange bedfellows," Stefan recited an old saying with a laugh, before offering her his tankard of ale that had obviously been untouched for a long time. "So, where are you off to, Kadlin?"

The woman winced at the annoying name she'd chosen for a false identification, but then swiftly recovered and smiled at her friend and taking the tankard of ale. It had been a while since she'd last had a drink, and she savoured the taste as the warm liquid rushed down her throat and sated her.

"Harrow's Peak, off to the west," Caroline replied smoothly, quickly surveying her friend and making her decision. "I might…need an able-bodied sell-sword to guard me, because I am so poor and defenceless in the wild." She pouted and gave an almost puppy-dog glance up at her friend, who was watching her with amusement. "You up for it?"

"I think the wild is poor and defenceless against _you_, Caroline Forbes," Stefan replied with a shake of his head at her antics. He looked at her again and saw that she was still holding her ridiculous puppy expression, and he chuckled at her before sighing. "Fine. I'll accompany you to Harrow's Peak."

Caroline managed to contain an exited sound, but couldn't stop the joy that rushed through her. Usually, her travels to various cities were dull and lonely, but with an old friend with her, things would be interesting at the most.

"_But_," Stefan interrupted her quickly before she could let loose her stream of thanks, "Make sure that I am out of the city before you complete your contract. A sell-sword is more suspicious than an innocent, blonde woman, and I will have possibly…garnered a reputation in Harrow's Hold."

"Understood," Caroline replied lightly, knowing that his condition was entirely tolerable. "We're headed to The Fabled Tale inn. Ever seen it?"

Stefan frowned for a moment, before darkening his expression and nodding grimly at her.

"Oh, yeah," he replied lowly, obviously remembering something from his less-than-desirable past. "I've definitely heard of it."

"Shady?" Caroline asked in curiosity, knowing that most inns that she was sent to for her to receive a contract tended to be quite interesting and black market hubs.

Stefan looked up at her for a moment and then sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I've heard a lot about Harrow's Peak, Caroline," her friend told her grimly, and Caroline listened to every word, knowing that her surveillance stage had already begun for her next target. "It's a messed-up city. It's supposed to have the most demonic presence in the land, and tyrants rule over everything." He reached over and took the tankard of ale from Caroline and helped himself to a large gulp before replacing it back on the table. "Just…promise me that this will be a quick mission."

The blonde woman nodded, unsure as to why her friend was being so serious. She'd been very near Harrow's Peak before; her target was a thief living on an abandoned farm near the forest. After she'd dealt with the body in a nearby stream, she'd stood tall on a hill and gazed at the grey walls that surrounded the distant city and the large castle that rose high and tall above the cliff that broke off suddenly and lead to the Great Sea.

"I promise," Caroline replied with little doubt in her mind. When she wanted to, any mission could be done swiftly. "It'll be in and out, trust me."

"Good," Stefan was satisfied and smiled at her, "Because it's not a place I'd want you anywhere near."

* * *

"I still can't believe that you dragged me onto a cart," Caroline scowled at Stefan, who was gazing out at the rolling green hills that rose tall and high above the narrow road they were currently driving through.

The cart they were seated on was spacious enough, but the blonde woman was not known for her patience during travelling. She liked to move and run and jump…not sit quietly in the back of a wooden cart. Plus, she had to watch her conversation, too! The driver was a middle-aged man who doubtlessly spent evenings at taverns and wouldn't hesitate to spill some gossip he'd heard from two of his passengers if he drank enough mead.

This wasn't what Caroline had had in mind when she asked Stefan to accompany her.

Her friend was seated opposite her reading an old book that he'd probably acquired on one of his travels. Beside his thigh, his wickedly sharp sword was resting in his scabbard, but was in close distant just in case if anything dangerous happened to come by. Seated next to the driver was a quiet, muscled man; obviously meant to be a bodyguard, but Caroline would much rather place her trust in Stefan Salvatore, who was a quite famous sell-sword and was renowned for his skill.

At her complaint and whine, her friend smiled patiently and simply turned a page in his book, though Caroline knew that he wasn't entirely focused on the writing before him, and that she had his attention.

"I mean, where is your sense in adventure?!" She pouted, but couldn't help gazing at the glimpse of snow on one of the mountains before an obstructing cloud covered it once more from her sight. Then, she turned back to her friend with renewed vigour. "I was so looking forward to some actual time together."

"We're together," Stefan replied with an amused smile and continued to flip through the pages of book with an uninterested stare. The cart shook with each rock the wheels encountered- and there were indeed many- so both the passengers swayed from side to side.

"You know what I mean," she scowled in return, before turning off to return her gaze to the scenery around her.

The land was undeniably beautiful; tall mountains of green, brown and flecks of white rose high from the ground and the peaks were outstretched and reached for the sky, which was an ever-constant cloud of grey and warning of rain. When the sun did manage to push through it's obstructive cover, it was only for a moment, and for that one moment, a single ray would light up only a small area in a contrasting burst of vibrant colours and it would appear as though a god was smiling down upon the land and rejuvenating it from the grey.

But then the clouds would swallow the light and all would return to normal.

Despite its beauty, Caroline couldn't help but notice that there was a certain bleakness to the land. As though it had once been young and plentiful, but age had withered it down to a shadow of what it once was.

"Harrow's approaching," the raspy voice of the driver interrupted the blonde woman from her thoughts and she faced the man at the cart, who was pointing before him. The cart was approaching the break in the two large cliff faces that had been walls to the path they had been travelling on. Stefan placed down his book and both watched as the rock face fell behind them.

Above the rolling hills of faded green and overgrown grass, the walls of Harrow's Peak rose up in the near distance. Outside, small buildings dotted the edge of stone walls; small businesses that relied on the wealth of the city and farms that preferred to live close to both profit and safety.

The highlight of the city, however, was the building in the distance. The grand castle was the furthermost point of the city; any further and one would fall straight off the great cliff and into the sea. The spires at the very top were sharp and stake-like even from the distance that the travellers were at, and the greyed colour of the castle did nothing to detract from its grandeur and appearance.

"Someone's obviously stacked," Caroline commented, breaking the unexpected tension in the cart, and she turned over to Stefan, who she expected to join in with her quip in laughter. Instead, he was stiff and was watching the fast approaching city with a harsh expression of suspicion. "Okay." Caroline withdrew into her shell after being disappointed, but she couldn't do anything to quell the excitement to enter a large city after spending so much time travelling in small, near-deserted farming towns for almost a year.

She still had some things to trade from her last contract. Perhaps she could buy herself something nice…the blonde woman rarely got to treat herself; her lifestyle was not exactly one of luxury.

So consumed in her own thoughts, Caroline didn't even notice the gazes sent her way from the farmers. The people from outside the city made a point to walk as far away from the cart as possible, which Stefan, with his eagle-eyes, did not fail to miss. He kept his mouth shut and didn't say a word about it, however, as he couldn't exactly blame others for being suspicious.

Finally, they were led up a long path that led to great double doors underneath a large archway. Two guards, each decked in a maroon coloured uniform approached the cart and peered at the passengers.

"Greetings, travellers," one guard said cheerfully, and Caroline opened her bag for inspection, though the guards only peered in passing at its contents, and didn't even attempt to find any of the secret pouches of her bag that contained her…less-than-honestly acquired items. "What brings you to Harrow's Peak?"

"Research," Stefan supplied helpfully, hiding his discomfort with the entire affair by placing a light façade on his face. "We're documenting maps on every great city in the land."

The guards were nodding and were about to search Stefan's bag, when Caroline noticed her friend stiffening extremely, and she knew that he carried something on his person that he didn't want another to see.

"My brother here carries the maps," Caroline quickly stopped them by speaking and gesturing to her friend. "He's really quite talented at drawing."

The guards stopped and peered up at her for a moment, and then a queer expression crossed their faces. First surprise, and then one of something that resembled fear. The two guards flicked their gazes to each other and waited in silence for a moment before the man on the left turned to her with a smile.

"It just so happens that our lord himself happens to be quite talented, as well," he replied, a light tilt to his voice. "He has publicly announced that he will host residence to anyone interested in the artistic talents, actually."

"Yes," the other guard added on, "And he had asked us that if we do find anyone showing some interest in the topic to send them to his castle immediately."

Caroline looked at Stefan, and they frowned. This was too sudden to be normal. Both the travellers were skilled lie-detectors, and they both sensed that something was very wrong.

They obviously couldn't accept the city's lord's invitation to host artists, as Caroline would simply be here to kill someone and then leave. Being hosted by someone of great importance would also hinder her opportunities slip free and find her target.

However, they couldn't defy the guards openly.

Caroline sent her Stefan a glance; one that said 'What's the harm with one visit?' Stefan threw his gaze to the ground in thought, and the blonde woman was forced to respond to the guards herself.

She didn't understand the big deal; she knew that something was rather suspicious, but she and Stefan were both trained warriors. Whoever this snooty lord was, he wouldn't stand much of a positive chance against both of the travellers if he tried anything.

The doors were opened and a guard led the cart inside the city, where he politely asked both of the travellers to dismount the cart and one of the couriers would escort them up to through the large city to the great castle on the cliff.

Caroline tried to ignore the feeling of finality as the large doors slammed shut behind her.

* * *

"You're being unreasonable," the young man sat down in the inn beside his lover, who was a beautiful, dark-skinned woman. She currently had a far-off expression on her face, and it took the slamming sound of a tankard hitting the table's wood to snap her out of her thoughts.

"What?" She asked as she blinked slightly. She sighed and rubbed her eyes in weariness.

"She will be here," the man reiterated with quiet vehemence, and his passion for their cause shone through. "She had never denied the call of the goddess before."

But the woman was not convinced. A sense of foreboding, something quite unlike anything she had ever felt before had begun to wash over her, and her instincts were screaming at her to notice and trust the warning she felt.

"I'm getting the feeling…that this is the beginning," the dark woman replied to her company, who sat and leaned forward to hear her every word, as her views were precious, because they were based on a sense that the man didn't possess. "That a change is coming. That a darkness quite unlike anything we've ever seen is ruling where it should not."

Her eyes rose and met her lover's with an intensity he only saw when she was at her most serious.

"That this shadow is beyond our strength."

* * *

**5 more reviews until I update.**

**Thank you for reading, please review, as reviews motivate me to do more. I will only update once I get at least 10 reviews- I'm not trying to annoy you, I'm trying to get a diverse group of feedback and opinions to better shape the next chapter. It means that can make the next chapter better suit the readers.**

**Music for this chapter: **

**The Decemberists-_ Won't Want For Love (Margaret in the Taiga) _**

**Karliene Reynolds-_ Running Up That Hill_**

**Karliene Reynolds- _Song of Exile _**

**Give me your theories, your thoughts and suggestions please :)**

**5 more.**


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